


Three (Semi-Failed) Christmases

by BrilliantlyHorrid



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Established Relationship, F/M, First holiday as a couple, Holidays on mission, Skoulson Christmas week, The babes work so hard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-28
Updated: 2015-11-28
Packaged: 2018-05-03 18:15:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5301728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrilliantlyHorrid/pseuds/BrilliantlyHorrid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Phil and Daisy celebrate Christmas three times. Or, well, they try to. </p><p>Written for the Skoulson Impromptu Christmas Celebration thing, with the prompts:<br/>-First holidays as a couple<br/>-Our flawless orphans celebrating the holidays when they are on the road/on a mission/undercover</p>
            </blockquote>





	Three (Semi-Failed) Christmases

**Author's Note:**

> Weeee I'm so excited for all the Christmas/holiday feels!

Phil walked down the quiet halls of the Playground, well after midnight. Rubbing a hand over his face he ventured a look at the time. _Late_. If he were a kid, he would probably be attempting to stay awake at this hour, trying to sneak downstairs and catch Santa “in the act.”

(He never succeeded.)

Although Washington usually took a break for Christmas, it seemed that the same courtesy did not extend to those working in paranormal/alien/experimental government negotiations. Apparently it was “more urgent.” AKA they didn’t want anyone else hanging around to overhear.

Not that it particularly mattered to Phil this year; the majority of his team had gone home to their families if they had them, or otherwise on a trip away from the Playground. So missing Christmas wasn’t that bothersome to him, not really. He honestly didn’t even know if anyone was still around, but he hoped that at least everyone _else_ was able to enjoy the holiday.

 _I guess not_ , he thought as he headed toward the kitchen. There was a light on. He hoped maybe someone had simply left it on, rather be spending a lonely Christmas on the SHIELD base, but the smell of something cooking in the oven squashed that.

_Who?_

Stepping into the doorway of the kitchen Phil saw Daisy sitting on the counter, reading a book that was settled in her lap. Before he even announced his presence, she looked up and smiled, apparently unsurprised by his arrival.

“Hey,” she called, closing the book in her lap. “Long day?” Her smile was slightly pitying, so Phil decided to take advantage of the opportunity. He tried not to complain about the work, considering the _importance_ of the work they were doing, and the fact that _his_ wasn’t the life in danger. But if she was _asking_ …

It _had_ been a long day.

“A bit, yeah,” he answered, loosening the knot of his tie slightly. “Apparently Christmas cheer checks itself at the door in DC.” Daisy gave him an understanding smile before hopping off the counter and moving over to the oven. “Are you cooking? It’s kind of late.” _Very_ late, really. But they were no strangers to late nights.

“I got caught up,” Daisy responded, and Phil nodded. He’d definitely been there. He couldn’t count how many meals he’d forgotten to have because he’d been drowning in paperwork. Thinking of the granola bar he’d stuffed in his face on the plane ride back, Phil looked around to see if there was anything he could scrounge up for a late dinner. Someone had left some dishes on the table, so he grabbed one of the plates, intending to make a sandwich or something. Setting aside the silverware next to the plate, Phil paused, then did a double take.

They weren’t just spare dishes, they were _table settings._

_Wait a second._

Daisy pulled something out of the oven, filling the kitchen with a heavenly smell. Phil scanned the counters: Two small baking dishes sat on a wooden cutting board, covered with a bit of tinfoil. A basket covered with a cloth napkin was emanating the smell of warm bread, and an opened bottle of white wine was sitting next to a half-full glass, both covered in condensation.

“Did you…” Phil began, and Daisy turned around, an awkward, guilty smile on her face. She had placed on top of the oven possibly the smallest cooked bird he’d ever seen. _Is that a cornish hen?_

“Merry Christmas?” She said cautiously, and Phil realized she was wearing a vaguely festive red sweater, and the day’s hair and makeup did not look as they usually did after long hours of working in the office. She appeared to have done them recently.

Pausing his _Agent’s Assessment_ of the kitchen, Phil let his surprise show on his face. “How did you--”

“I kind of sort of did the basic stuff during the day, then had your pilot tell me when you were about an hour out,” she explained, taking off an oven mitt. “I mean, it gave me something to do during the day since everyone was gone, and how _cute_ is this shit?” She asked, pointing at the cooked hen. “It’s like a mini turkey.” Standing up, Phil walked over to the other dishes and lifted the foil. Mashed potatoes, and some kind of squash that was covered in walnuts and brown sugar.

“How did you--”

“Mack helped. He’s good at comfort food; helped me pick out a couple easy things before he and Joey left for Denver.” Tenting a piece of foil over the bird, Daisy walked over to the bottle of wine that had clearly been chilled. There was another glass, empty, next to her own. “Do you want…?” She seemed nervous, holding up the bottle timidly. At first Phil wondered what could possibly be causing that worried look on her face, but then he realized he had basically just been standing there staring for the past couple minutes. He nodded slowly, and Daisy poured him a glass. After handing it to him, she topped off her own and took a big gulp.

“This is weird, isn’t it? It’s weird,” she said after a few beats, taking another generous sip.

“It’s not--”

“Sorry, I just had _a lot_ of miserable Christmases growing up, and I’d totally be fine with doing nothing, but I figured you seem to actually _like_ holidays, and coming back to a big empty base would be kind of...depressing,” she rambled, and Phil saw her reach for the wine bottle again.

“Daisy,” Phil interrupted, pulling the bottle out of her reach. “It’s not weird.” Her eyes were darting between him and the wine and the cooked hen behind her, and Phil could practically see her regretting all the work she’d done. He was familiar with Daisy’s myriad of expressions, and this one said, _‘too much, too much, you did too much.’_

“This is amazing,” he told her sincerely, and Daisy nodded along quickly as if he had told her it was way too overkill and she had made a terrible mistake. Bringing her glass to her lips again, she paused.

“Wait what?”

“I’d say you didn’t have to do all of this, but I’m afraid if I do you’re going to throw everything into the garbage and apologize or something,” he said, his lips quirking into a small smile. “This was incredibly sweet, thank you.” Coulson was truly touched, and frankly surprised. He wasn’t sure he’d even seen Daisy cook before, let alone make a full dinner. With _prep work_.

For _him._

Noticing she still seemed fairly fidgety, Coulson gestured toward the table. “Why don’t you sit down?” He suggested, and Daisy looked like she might fight him for a second. “Don’t tell me you were going to make me eat by myself?”

Caught between ‘wanting to give him his space’ and ‘not wanting him to be alone,’ Daisy looked conflicted before finally relenting and sitting at the table. Coulson brought everything she had made over, making one last trip before he sat down to grab the wine bottle. Taking his jacket off and hanging over the back of his chair, Phil looked over at Daisy, who had finally seemed to relax and ditch the self-consciousness he’d seen since he walked through the door. Maybe she wasn’t used to people appreciating her efforts, or concerned that her actions gave him the wrong idea, Phil wasn’t sure.

What he _was_ sure of was that he found himself wishing they had candles somewhere, because the food and the wine and the holiday (and the _company_ ) definitely called for some better lighting than the sterile fluorescents of the kitchen.

_What was that about getting the wrong idea?_

Instead, he raised his glass to hers. “Merry Christmas, Daisy” he said, and she smiled.

“Merry Christmas, Phil.”

***

“Tell me you didn’t wait up,” Daisy said as she essentially barreled through the door. Part of her knew it was a lost cause, even if she had specifically told him on their call earlier, _‘don’t wait up_.’ Of course, there he was the second she entered the retreat, taking her coat and hanging it up by the heater. “Phil,” she said warningly, before glancing around the rest of the cabin.

 _No settings on the table, candlesticks but no candles, and nothing cooking_. She sighed in relief. “ _So_ sorry it took me this long,” she said, kissing him quickly on the cheek before kicking her boots off by the door. Walking into the sitting area, she plopped on the couch. “I’m glad I got ahold of you before you got started,” she said, watching him place her discarded boots on the mat to dry.

“ _I’m_ glad you’re okay,” Phil responded, sitting on the couch next to her and wrapping an arm around her shoulders. Taking the cue, Daisy leaned over and pressed her lips to his, curling one of her hands into the collar of his sweater.

Normally she wouldn’t have minded working on Christmas, but considering this was her and Phil’s first Christmas together, she would have liked to have spent it...you know, _together_. Eyeing the clock and seeing it was well after midnight, she sighed, tucking her head under his chin and resting against his chest.

“Sorry I missed it,” she said ruefully, and Phil rubbed a warm hand over her back.

“Don’t worry,” he said, and Daisy grinned when she felt his chest rumble as he spoke. He sounded tired, poor guy. It probably got boring spending the entire day by himself, getting her call about being late and not spending the afternoon cooking up the elaborate dinner he had planned. Snuggling deeper into his arms, Daisy sighed and simply breathed him in.

_Wait._

She sat up, staring at him accusingly. “You were _cooking_.” Phil’s eyes widened innocently, but she could see the guilt there. “Don’t lie, I can smell you.” Looking over at the kitchen, she started to panic. “How much did you--”

“Daisy,” Coulson said, in a clear attempt to soothe her. But she stood up, heading swiftly to the kitchen. Phil followed. “ _Daisy_ , don’t worry, I just made something for myself until you got here, let’s just relax for a second--”

She opened the refrigerator.

“Oh _no_ ,” she groaned. The fridge was full of neatly stacked tupperware containers, all filled with what she could see was a complex and sizable dinner. “I didn’t get to you in time,” Daisy whined, slapping a hand over her forehead. There weren't even any dirty dishes hanging around, who was this guy?

Phil leaned against the counter behind her and sighed. “I’m sorry. You weren’t able to call until four, so I--”

“When did you start cooking?”

Phil didn’t say anything, and Daisy whipped around. “When?”

He looked at her sheepishly. “One-ish?” Daisy was mortified. “That was all prep work though, and I already started cooking when you had called, so it wouldn’t have made sense to stop at that point, so I…” He gestured toward the fridge.

“I’m a _monster_ ,” Daisy moaned, hanging her head. Behind her she could hear Phil laugh, before she felt a pair of arms wrap around her tightly.

“You’re not a monster,” he told her, kissing the top of her head. “Kind of the exact opposite, actually.”

“You did all this work and had to pack it away,” Daisy protested, pulling back to look at him.

“You missed dinner because you were trying to keep a city from crumbling into the ocean,” Phil said flatly, and Daisy had to concede the point. She was kind of one of the good guys. And if protecting thousands of people from the destruction of their homes wasn’t a decent excuse for missing dinner, she wasn’t sure what was.

But she was _also_ selfish, when it came to spending time with her incredible boyfriend and eating his incredible food.

“I’m sorry we didn’t get to have a nice dinner,” she said, wrapping her arms around Phil’s neck. “Even if it’s because I’m like, super awesome and amazing.”

Phil laughed quietly. “I think I can forgive you,” he said, leaning down to kiss her. Daisy swiped her tongue over his bottom lip, eliciting a groan.

“I suppose I can make it up to you then,” she whispered, and Phil nodded excitedly. “By…” She kissed him again, feeling his hand thread through her hair. “Re-heating that food because you did all the tough work earlier and I’m starving.” Phil pulled back to stare at her and she raised her eyebrows suggestively. “Hot, right?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he sighed, kissing her quickly one last time before he started taking food out of the refrigerator and setting it on the counter. Tilting her head, Daisy watched him thoughtfully.

“What do you think about eating on the couch?” She asked, and she saw Phil consider it. “We’ll sort of be eating leftovers--even though I’m pretty sure they’re the fanciest leftovers ever-- so instead of re-setting the table, we could be...cozy.”

Coulson raised an eyebrow. “ _Cozy_?”

Looking toward the bedroom, Daisy shrugged. “We should probably put our pajamas on first,” she suggested casually. Seeing Phil’s eyes light up, she dropped the act and grinned. “Merry Christmas?” Phil nodded rapidly, following her as she made her way to their room.

“Yes, it definitely is.”

***

“Okay, since he’s shooting at us, I’m guessing he’s not Santa Claus!” Phil called over to Daisy, who was huddled behind a different stack of crates. He stood briefly, before ducking down to avoid getting shot in the head. “Yup! _Definitely_ not Santa Claus!”

“Oh good!” Daisy yelled back, peeking around the corner. “The red suit really threw me!”

“I know, right?!”

So maybe it wasn’t their best Christmas. But at least they were together, right? “Cover me!” Phil yelled over the din, and saw Daisy nod before throwing her hands up. Once he saw the vague shimmering of her shield he stood, running closer to the gunman. Whatever the guy had injected into his veins had left him supremely unstable, which was unfortunate given that he also apparently had a lot of weapons at his disposal. Phil was able to get his attention, however, and the gunfire was soon aimed just at him.

He probably should be a little more tactically-minded and less fascinated, but Phil would never get over seeing bullets bounce off of the vibrating force fields Daisy was able to create. They seemed so fragile, so transparent, like one wrong move could kill him easily, but there was no one he trusted more. While the man was slowly realizing his shots were useless, Daisy stood up and focused one hand on him while maintaining the shield around Phil with the other. _And not even breaking a sweat_ , Phil thought. The man’s gun quickly disassembled, and the second Daisy let the shield drop, Phil was able to ice him.

“Go team,” Daisy sighed, shaking out her arms as she walked over to him. Phil smiled tiredly, the weight of the day simultaneously lifting and finally hitting him all at once. He raised his hand up to give her a lackluster high five before moving over to cuff their attacker.

“Do you want to call in backup?” He asked, making sure the man was secured in their highest grade of restraints. Phil wasn’t sure how the serum he used had affected his physical strength, but they weren’t going to take any chances with it.

Daisy frowned, walking over. “I can, but don’t you think we kind of have it handled?” She asked, eyeing the unconscious man. “Seriously though, _what_ is he wearing? Some kind of pajamas?”

Phil shook his head, standing up and stepping back. “No idea,” he said, looking over at Daisy who seemed almost as tired as he felt. “But I was thinking we could have someone from the team come pick him up, see if we can salvage these last--” He looked at his watch, then winced. “Negative two hours of Christmas. Damn it.”

Daisy let out a low, tired chuckle as he felt an arm wrap around his waist. “Don’t worry about it,” she told him, but Phil sighed. He really thought they would catch a break this year, but then _everything_ happened with this weirdo, and they _happened_ to be the closest to the scene while they were on their trip.

To be clear, he would _never_ neglect helping people just to spend more time with Daisy. He was a SHIELD agent, after all, it was his job and he was happy to do it. (Even if she _was_ the love of his life and they had _plans_ and they had been waiting for this for _months_.) Seeming to sense his melancholy, Daisy reached up and pinched his cheek lightly.

“Hey, don’t get all gloomy,” she chided him, and Phil rolled his eyes.

“I wanted this to be the year I got it right,” he admitted, and he saw Daisy frown slightly in confusion. “I wanted to give you a really good Christmas for once. No getting home late, or work, or people shooting at us.” He rubbed a hand over his face. Their lives were _insane_. All he wanted was to give her a nice, quiet dinner at a nice, quiet restaurant, then go spend a nice, quiet night in one of those ritzy hotels with the fluffy pillows and eat room service dessert in the giant fluffy bed they were to have ample amounts of celebratory Christmas sex in. With no worries over being overheard, or late, or working, or dealing with _people shooting at them._

“I thought it was finally going to be perfect,” he said wistfully, preparing himself instead for a long trip back to the Playground and piles of paperwork. Daisy looked at him thoughtfully.

“I spent the entire day _with you_ ,” she said. “We just nabbed a bad guy, and now I’m going to make out with you in the cockpit before we bring him back to our secret spy base.” She shrugged. “This kind of _is_ perfect, Phil.”

Phil smiled shyly, feeling a bit embarrassed about his own complaints. He was with Daisy, they were both unharmed, and apparently there were going to be cockpit makeouts. Seriously, what was he complaining about?

“You’re right,” he said, his exhausted body pulling hers into a tight embrace. Cupping his face in her hands, Daisy leaned up and kissed him deeply, and for a few seconds Phil was able to ignore his fatigue and smell of gunpowder and the unconscious man at their feet.

Daisy pulled away, smiling at him softly.

“Merry Christmas, Agent Johnson.”

Phil grinned at her, a little too giddy to say it back just yet.

Okay, so it _was_ kind of perfect.

 


End file.
